


If Only I Were the One You Imagined

by Lunaarz



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Asexual Character, Asexual Katsuki Yuuri, Barista Victor Nikiforov, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-01-27 09:14:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunaarz/pseuds/Lunaarz
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri is a dime-a-dozen romance novelist writing under the pen name Nishiya Aisuke. When he meets world famous high fantasy author Victor Nikiforov under the context of the Grand Prix Prize Awards Ceremony in Sochi Russia, neither of them are aware of the other's identity at first. But, as strangers, the find themselves naturally drawn to each other. With each secret between them coming to light, their relationship has its ups and downs, but will Yuuri's ultimate secret be their breaking point?
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!
> 
> I've been itching to write something different. While there may be some scenes containing sex, overall the plot has a more romantic focus - flirting, kissing, and cuddling, so if you want something spicy, this is not for you.

“もしもし, Mom?” Yuuri picked up the phone after a couple rings. “Why are you calling? Is everything alright?”

“Do I have to have a reason to call my son? I just haven’t heard from you in ages.”

He sighed, she was right. “I’m sorry mom. I’ve been…” _depressed, struggling, busy, distracted, _“busy,” was the word he settled for.

“I know, my Yuu-kun is working so hard!” she exclaimed, “My friend told me about your book, she said she read it – the Japanese version, and loved it!”

He panicked, “Mom you didn’t read it did you?!”

“Of course, not sweetie. I know how self-conscious you are about your work, so I only get to hear second hand news from my friends about it.” She laughed knowing she gave him a good scare. “Your dad and I are very proud of you. I hear you’ve even been nominated for an award!”

“Oh that? I have to get on a plane tomorrow. But, It’s not like I’ll win or anything, it’s honestly a fluke. That book isn’t anything special. I’ve read the other nominees’ works and they are all so much better than mine. I think I just made the list because of my connection to Minako-senpai.”

“Nonsense! You’re an amazing author and you deserve that nomination. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Thanks mom…” he smiled.

“Oh! We have customers! Sorry Yuu, I have to go.”

“I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone and gulped down the rest of his coffee. There was just a sip left. He grimaced, it had already gone cold.

He looked up over the top of his laptop screen at the counter of the coffee shop he was currently camping out in. Seeing no one in line, he stood up and shuffled over to the register. A chipper girl with box-dyed purple hair rang him up for a half-caf mocha. He was already on his third, so he figured he should slow down.

Stretching his legs was a good idea, he decided. The shop wasn’t too busy, so his coffee would be ready shortly – not worth sitting back down. He was avoiding work anyway.

Work – his publisher was on his heels about the sequel to his last hit novel. He wanted a draft of the first half by next Thursday to hand to the editors.

He shook his head – no he couldn’t get swallowed up by that.

Yuri, your latte is ready!

He smiled at the little fern leaf design. “Did you make this?” he looked to the purple haired girl, “it’s very good.”

“T-thanks,” a faint blush dusted her cheeks and she smiled before retreating to the back counter to wash a stack of dirty mugs.

Yuuri pulled a wadded-up dollar out of his pocket and threw it in the tip jar. He was almost afraid to drink it and ruin the beautiful work.

He sat down with his fresh coffee and faced his screen once again. He sighed – the book wasn’t going to write itself, but he was stuck between two major scenes and couldn’t find a way to connect them without seeming boring.

Opting to avoid work some more – after all it was Saturday, he had five days to finish this set of chapters – he pulled out his tablet and opened-up his current read to where he had left off. This was the last book of the nominees he had mentioned to his mother earlier.

Surely, this book would be the one to win the Grand Prix Prize. He ate up the pages, knowing he saved the best for last. This was Victor Nikiforov’s work. He was a finalist every year, and the prize winner for the last four years. Even though he wrote high fantasy, he made it all feel so real and immersive.

His writing style was, in essence, perfect and Yuuri admitted that he studied his works to become a better writer. The fact that he was on the same nomination list as Victor was a dream come true, even if he didn’t deserve it. Minako was one of the judges this year, she probably had a say in getting his name on the list – even if she vehemently denied it.

He saw an email notification pop up as he read. It was time to check into his flight to Russia for the awards ceremony. With 24 hours before his flight looming, he unceremoniously guzzled the coffee, shut his laptop and walked back upstairs to his apartment. He had to pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> もしもし - "Hello" (for answering phone calls)


	2. Chapter 2

Yuuri didn’t sleep much on the plane – 20-hour flight from Atlanta. He didn’t sleep the day before either. He half-hoped that by staying up all night before his flight he’d be such a zombie the next day that he would pass out, but instead, bleary eyed and barely functioning he discovered a new plane of existence that could only be achieved through intentional sleep deprivation.

He didn’t feel tired, he didn’t particularly feel like writing either, but in this sleepless daze, he sat on his bed and started clacking away at his keyboard. The worst that would happen was that he would simply delete everything once he had a clear mind.

His 9 am alarm went off like a jackhammer. His head pounded, and his body felt leaded down. He must have passed out, he surmised. Yuuri re-read through what he wrote and promptly deleted everything. It was a pipe dream anyway – that he could write something genius in a state of delirium. But, at least, he could say he tried.

He opened his emails and saw something from his agent. Yuuri frowned. That was odd. He wasn’t expecting pestering until Thursday, it was… Sunday? Monday?

_Yuuri, I skimmed through everything you sent me last night and I’m very pleased with how these chapters have turned out. It seems a little sloppier than I’m used to seeing from you, but I can’t complain. You’re done four days early with a draft that the editors won’t have qualms with. I’ve already sent it over to them._

_Please get some sleep before the awards ceremony._

_Celestino Cialdini _

_Senior Publishing Agent_

_Salchow Publishing House _

“Shimatta!” he groaned, dragging his fingertips down his face. What happened last night? It was like he was drunk! He couldn’t believe he sent that garbage to his publishers.

He found the silver lining - at least he didn’t have this deadline looming over his head for the duration of his trip. He would still probably – definitely – send them the right copy by Thursday though.

He swung his legs around and out of bed and waddled into the bathroom. He threw on a navy cashmere sweater and a baggy, stained hoodie over it. He slipped on his glasses, ran his fingers through his hair a couple times to squash down the bed head, and went down to the lobby café for a green tea.

He seated himself by the window and felt the chilliness seeping through the pane of glass even from a foot or so away. Winter in Russia was damn cold. He was afraid to go out in it, but now that he had cleared his schedule by turning in that steamy pile of shit, he thought it might be an opportune time to go sight-seeing – forget about his problems for a little while.

“Excuse me,” he looked up to meet the eyes of the man practically purring in front of him, “Are you one of the authors at tonight’s ceremony?” He was tall, foreign, a faint French accent. He exuded pure sex appeal.

“You’re Christophe Giacometti!” Yuuri squeaked in surprise. He was a famous erotic fiction novelist.

“Oh,” he took the liberty to sit down across from him, “So, you’ve heard of me? You’ve read my books yes? Do they delight you?”

“They’re… very sexy.” Yuuri agreed. “And, yes I am here for the awards ceremony. How could you tell?”

“You’re not Russian.” He pointed out matter-of-factly. Why else would a foreigner be here in the wintertime?

“Ah,” he huffed, “You’ve got a point.”

“My friend has ditched me for the day, so I thought I’d try my luck scooping up a cutie like you for the day. So tell me,” he rambled on without skipping a beat, “which book is yours?”

“I-I’m no one special,” he dismissed, “I’m just here to represent an author in his stead.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“Nishiya Ai-”

“Nishiya Aisuke!” Christophe exclaimed, “Not as steamy as my books, but damn does he know how to write. I’ve masturbated just thinking about some of his juicy scenes. Next time you see him, tell him Chris says hi,” he winked flirtatiously for good measure. “I can’t believe you know him!”

Yuuri blushed at his shamelessness. “It’s not that amazing. He is just another guy.”

“How can you say that! He is an enigma! Never been photographed, never appeared at any of his awards ceremonies, no biography.”

“He’s just really shy.”

“Well I’d love to get to know you better and hear more about Aisuke. Would you like to join me for lunch later?” Chris picked up Yuuri’s hand.

“Sorry,” he tried to look anywhere but his face, and at those piercing green eyes. “I’m a little bit busy for the rest of the day.”

“You too? Victor said the same thing.”

“You know Victor Nikiforov?!” It was Yuuri’s turn to be flabbergasted.

“So, you’re a fan?” he chuckled, “We’ve been friends since we were teenagers actually. I can introduce you two at the banquet if you’d like. You might even be his type,” he winked again.

Yuuri blushed, “You don’t have to waste his time introducing him to me.”

Seeing that his mug was blessedly empty, Yuuri stood up, “I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your breakfast. It was nice to meet you Mr. Giacometti.”

“Call me Chris.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shimatta - shit/damn it


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri grabbed his winter trench coat from his room, pulled on his waterproof boots, and got out of the hotel. He set up walking directions for a cozy coffee shop with good reviews. Even though he allegedly finished his chapters for the week, and he promised himself a little break, he knew that Ciao Ciao would have his head if he didn’t turn in the right manuscript by Thursday – so he brought his laptop with him.

Next to the café was one of those pop-up wintertime skating rinks. He thought back to his childhood zooming around the Ice Palace. He hadn’t skated in… eight years? nine?

Yuuri detoured. Paid the small boot rental fee, mumbled out a size in what little Russian he knew and stored his messenger bag in one of the dinged-up coin lockers. The changing room smelled like old feet and mildew, so he laced up quickly.

Out on the ice he had a beautiful view of the city’s train station. Covered in snow and lights, it glimmered brightly, reflecting off the snow. This was so much better than holing up in a coffee shop for the day. He watched children race each other around the rink and couples wobbling on the ice like baby deer. The bitterly cold, crisp hair singed his nostrils and cleared out his sinuses. What a wonderful morning.

WHAM!

Yuuri went flying towards the ice. Instinctively, he rolled to the side and landed on his hip. He hissed in pain.

“I’m so sorry!” A man’s voice rattled around inside his head. “Are you hurt?”

Yuuri looked up and was blinded by the sun – no wait – his glasses. Where were his glasses?

“My glasses,” he croaked out.

“Oh! I see them,” Yuuri watched the man teeter over to a dark speck on the ice and pick it up. Yuuri began to pick himself up off the ice. He skated over, trying to show the limp in his left leg. His hip would be purple later.

“I’m sorry, I believe they are broken,” he looked down sheepishly at the blue frames in his hand. There was a large crack in the right lens.

Yuuri put them on anyway, “I’ve got contacts thankfully.” He met this man’s eyes.

He was gorgeous – his eyes were bluer than the sky, his hair was like spun silver. Yuuri inched backwards just a little bit. He was rather close.

“That’s good,” he ran his hand through that impossible shade of silver. “I can pay to replace your glasses though! Although it might take a couple days for them to arrive. How long will you be staying here?”

“I’m just here for the Grand Prix Prize Ceremony. You don’t have to trouble yourself, but thank you.”

“At least let me make it up to you somehow, could I take you to lunch?”

“If it makes you feel better.” Yuuri mumbled.

The mystery angel smiled with a heavenly radiance. “I’m Victor.” Victor held out his hand.

“Yuuri. Nice to meet you.”

“Yuuuri.” He drawled out the ‘u’, fumbling over it to delineate it from a Russian pronunciation. “Nice to meet you. Do you… want to get your contacts?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Yeah. I’m staying at the hotel two blocks away. It’ll be a short walk.” He started gliding towards the exit.

“I’m really sorry about ruining your morning ice skating. You’re really not injured, are you?” Victor wobbled behind, close to Yuuri’s heels.

“Nothing a couple pain killers won’t fix,” he dismissed the angel’s concerns with a wave of his hand. “I’m not dying, but I’d rather not run a marathon.”

Victor followed Yuuri like a baby duckling all the way to his room. Yuuri paused mid-way rifling through his pockets for the room key, he was about to let some stranger into his room. It was a disaster!

“Did you lose your key?” Victor startled him.

“No!” He squeaked in surprise, “No, it’s in one of my pockets, I’m sure.”

“Ah! Found it.”

_He’s just a stranger. I don’t owe him anything. Who cares if my room is messy? _Yuuri exhaled quietly. He heard the familiar click of the door’s magnetic lock.

He swung the door open, “I’m sorry it’s messy, but you can come in if you want. I’ll just be a moment.”

Victor obediently shuffled in and took a seat at the desk. That was safe, safer than sitting on the bed.

Yuuri came back, and Victor nearly choked on his own spit. He was gorgeous, so gorgeous. The man – _did he clean up for me? – _slicked his hair back with a little gel, dispelling his morning bedhead, and put in his contacts. His navy sweater looked beautiful against his skin tone.

“Ready to go Victor?” Yuuri was looking at him innocently.

“Uhhh. Yes!” He jolted up, let’s go. I’ll call a taxi downstairs while you lock up. Victor ran out of the room hot and bothered.

_Was this a date? Oh my god I asked him on a date! _Victor’s cheeks burned. _I’m not even dressed up for this._


End file.
